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BY JAS, CtARK.
Lights and Shades.
13Y MRS. lIEMANS,
1' he gloomiest day bath gleams of light,
The darkest wave hath bright foam near it;
And twinklcs:through the cloudiest night.
Some solitary star to steer it.
The gloomiest soul is not all gloom,
The saddest heart is not all sadness,
And sweetly o'er the darkest doom,
'There shines some lingering beams of gladness,
Decpair is ne ,, er quite despair ;
Nor life nor death the future closes ;
And.round the shadowy brow of care,
Will hope and fancy twine their roses.
PAY TOUR MINISTER.
BY MRS. H. C. KNIGHT.
" Has Mr. Scott's bill been sent over
lately 1" asked a ulrocer gruffly.
"Yes, sir, I take it every time I go a
dunning," answered the boy.
" Well, what does he say I"
" He ha'nt the money ; that's what
he always says."
" Well, go again—these ministers are
salaried men, and they ought to pay—
wonder what they do with their money,
—practice before precept. I say,—l want
no better religion than to pay my debts"
—a smirk of satisfaction played over
his hard features. "Here take this bill
drive him hard till I get it,—give
.him a touch of the law,—yes--no,—go,
Bill." •
_ _
"He won't, pay, I know," muttered
,Bill walking off.
A kkock at Mr. Scott's door ; Mary
answen.d its summons.
"1 want to see Mr. Scott," demanded
the boy. Up flew Mary to the study
door; gently opening it, and on tiptoe
peeping in,—"Paph, please come down,
a boy wants you ;" and as he put nside
his pen and slowly arose, Mary jumped
in and nestled her little hand lovingly
in his, "I'll lead you, father--it is
Mr. Cook's boy." Ali ! Mary little
dreamed how drearily the information
fell upon her father's ear. .
• "Is it 1" he stops,."perhaps, then,
you had better go down and ask him to
send up his message, for I am so busy,"
—he hesitates,—"no, Mary, . stop, .1 will
go myself. These are exigencies 1 muse
meet, ' he added to himself,,pressing his
lips firmly together, lest tin impatient
or repining thought might seek an ut
terance.
"Here's Mr. Cook's bill, and he says
he wants the . pay now," was the famil
iar greeting that Mr. Scott met at the
door ; alas, too, familiar had the poor
man become with messages of a similar
character.
"Yes—yes—Mr. Cook's bill," taking
the bill in one hand, and thrusting the
other into his pocket, more from habit
than from expectation that it would come
in contact with any thing else, but the
two keys which constantly resided there,
and which,he sometimes jingled together
in the pleasing illusion that they sound
cd like change.
"I believe I am quite out of money'
now but tell Mr. Cook I will try and
send it over soon."
"Flow soon 1" asked the boy impa ,
tientiy, "that's what you. said before."
A deep flush passed over the minister,
as he mildly answerad, "just as soon as
I can ; and experience told him too pain
fully that his 'soon' had no very definite
boundaries. The boy soon departed.
"Come, my little girl, I want you to
go an errand'; ask your mother to put
on your things," said Mr. Seou l trying
to be cheerful.
"Mother's laid down a little while ; I
can dress me," and away she skipped:
Mr. Scott returned to his study and
wrote an urgent request to the treasurer
of his society, soliciting some . payment
of the long and unpaid arrears of the
last year's salary.
"I'm ready, father," said Mary at his
k elbow, just as he had finished.
•• "My dear, you will be cold ; have
you nothing to wear on your neck but
this 1" said the father, taking the cor
ner of a thin kerchief in his hand ; "why
it's November. and 'tis very cold out !"
"Mother's got the shawl ; I've been
down to the kitchen and am warm. It
is very cold up here, father—why don't
you have a_ fire in your study, where
you sit and study ,io 1;0111 your '
gingers freeze, father ?"
o ' "I should be very glad to have one,"
said the minister with a slight despon
dence in his tone, "but we cannot have
every thing we want in this world, Ma
"We shan't want fires in heaven, shall
we father 1"
"Thank God, no, Mary ;" he hastily
brushed away the starting tear. "Car
ly this note over to Mr. Goodwin and
livait for an unswer ; run and you will
be warmer."
Away the child. sped. The minister
took a few turns in the narrow precincts
of his study, rubbed hie hands:liuttoned
up his threadbare coat, and then resum-
ed hie chair and pen ; but with every j
gust that whirl'd the dead leaves against'
the window, a chill and a shiver swept
through his frame.
Half an hour and back came the little
messenger ; at the patting of her little
feet upon the stairs, hope and fear, and
fear and hope, rose and fell in his bosom,
end as lie turned round and beheld her
happy, rosy face, a bright vision of
bank bills, .flitted before him.
"So you hove got it," he said cheeri
ly and thankfully.
"No, father, he says he's very sorry,
but he has not got a dollar for you yet ;
.he says he hopes he shall soon, and he's
very sorry. Who that has not been
similarly situated can describe the heart
sinking that follows such an announce
ment?—"He says he's very sorry," ad
ded Mary, again, as if fearing that her
father needed consolation. ,
"Oh, very well, thank you, my dear ;
now run down and help Mother.
• "l'm going to get dinner if mother
isn't well enough to get up—she will
let me."
"See what a fine dinner you can get;"
and the minister could not have restrain
a sigh, had he suffered himself to count
the probabilities of future dinners ; but
then be remembered the lillies of the
field and the fowls of' the nir, and a
trusting love stole into his bosom, and
he felt he was in a Father's house, and
under a Father's protection.
In due time carne the dinner hour.—
"Mother don't feel well enough to get
up, but she wants you to sit down with
us children, father," said Mary. again
presenting herpelf nt the study door.
Mr. Scott proceeded to the bed room.
"Are you no better, Sarahl" lie asked,
tenderly taking the thin hand of his
wife, upon whose arm lay a sickly, per
pie infant, of five weeks. "You ought
not so soon to have tried to do the work;
the weather is cold, and you have ex
posed yourself too much I fear."
"Ought not are hard words," answer
ed the wife, faintly smiling. "I hope
I shall be better soon, for we cannot af
ford to hire. if we only had that flan
nel, dear, I could be sitting up makinz
that while I am too feeble to do much
about the house. lam afraid you suffer
for your waist coats; I think flannel
would strengthen me. If you could let
me have a little tnoney," continued the
wife feebly, "I don't know but Mary
could get it; she went with me to look
at it."
'Mother, Polly Marden's at the door,"
said Mary ; "she' says she wants to
speak to you a minute; can she, moth
er'!"
"I suppose she wants the pay for ma
king your pantaloons, dear," said the
wife addressing her husband : can you
let me have itl" Ask her into the kitch
en, Mary.
"Sarah, I have not one cent in the
world, and 1 have not had one these five
weeks ; quarter after quarter passes
away and my salary is not paid, and now
winter is coining with cold and debts,
and perhaps hunger, staring us in the
face ; " and the poor minister, quite over
come by the accumulation of debts and
necessities, felt unnerved in spite of
himself. Fearing . to distress his wife,
he hastily arose and retired to his cold
and comfortless study, there to betake
himself to tiro Lord, and cast all the
burden of his cares upon Him who Ca
reth for him. Through many a season
of hardship and sore distress had his
strength been renewed and his heart en+
couraged at the throne of Mercy.
'Consecrated to God in infancy by pi
ous parents, he early became the subject
of renewed grace, and resolved to devote
himself to the ministry. To reach this,
for ten years he had struggled through
amazing difficulties. His collegiate and
theological course could have born wit
ness to watchings and self denials, which
nothing could have sustained but a deep
and intense love for the Work. Tho
roughly trained for his high and respon
sible calling, lie entered upon its duties
with a heart filled with his Master's love
for the souls of his fellow men. Single.
hearted, full of hope ready to make any
sacrifice for others' good, he became set
tled in the ministry, expecting at least
to receive a sufficient return for his la
bors of love to enable hiM to prosecute
the arduous duties of his profession free
from immediate want. Like his, the
lives of many devoted clergymen are
clouded by anxiety about their families.
They labor, and preach, and study and
watch, and pray ; they sacrifice health,
bodily ease and personal comfort for the
good of souls under their charge; and
what poor returns do they often receive;
how wi etchedly and reluctantly paid for
their blessed ministrations ! The pro
fession, exalted as it is, commands an
average pay no way equal to any other
business ; and when clergymen are rea
dy to receive with humble satisfaction a
small compensation, how grudgingly is
it oftimes bestowed. Month after month
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1840.
passes by, and the .minister's bill is in
long arrears ; he cannot get his just
dues, while the debts and necessities of
his little family are fast accumulating.
Shall not such a laborer be suitably
rewarded! Shall he not be kept aboire
a painful sense of want 1 Shall he be a
reproach among irreligious men, because
he is denied the means of paying his
just and necessary debts 1 Shall his
mind be turned from his great and sol
emn duties by the fearful foreboding—
how.will the two ends of the year meetl
0, shame on the Christian church and
'Christian communities that this should
ever be the fact ! Let every individual
who enjoys the exalted privilege of an
enlightened Christian ministry, look to
it that he is not amiss about granting it
an adequate support. Let every indivi
dual behold the distinguished blessings,
temporal, intellectual and spiritual, of
an intelligent Gospel ministry, and be
instant in season to pay his minister.--
Cong. Visitor.
TUE FISUT DUTY OF A SOLDIER
Napoleon and the Soldier--A thrill
ing Story.
A French vetran, with one arm, was
seated before the door of his neat cot
tage one pleasant evening in July. He
was surrounded by several village lads
who with one voice entreated him to
commence his promised story. The
old man took his pipe from his mouth,
wiped his lips with the back of his re
maining hand, and began thus :-
4 In my time, boys, Frenchmen would
have scorned to fight with Frenchmen
in the streets as they do now. No, no ;
when we fought, it was for the honor of
France, and against her foreign enemies.
Well, my story begins on the 6th of
November, 181 2 , a short time after the
battle of Wiasma. We were beating a
retreat, not before the Russians, for they
kept a respectable distance from our
cantonments, but before the biting cold
of their detestable country, more terri
bleto us than Russians, Austrians and
Bavarians put together. For the last
few days, our officers had been telling
us that we were approaching Smolensk°
where we should be certain of finding
food, fire, brandy and shoes ; but in the
meantime we were perishing in the ice,
and perpetually harrassed by bands of
Cossack riders.
•
• e had marched for six hours,"with
out pausing to draw breath, for we knew
that repose was certain death. A bitter
wind hurled snow-flakes against our fa
ces, and now and then we stumbled over
the frozen corpses of our comrades. No
singing or talking then. Even the grum
blers ceased to complain, and that was
a bad sign. I walked behind my cap
tain; he was a short man, strongly built
rugged and severe, but brave and true
as his own sword-blade. We called
him Captain Positive; for, once lie said
a thing, so it was—no appeal lie never
changed his mind. He had been wound
ed at Wiazma, and his usually red face
Was now quite pale ; while the pieces of
an old white hankerchief which he had
wrapped around his legs were soaked
with blood. I saw him first move slow
ly, then stagger like a drunken man; and
at last fall down like a block.
clforblue ! captain," said I, bending
over him, you can't lie there.'
You see that I can, because I do,' he
replied, pointing to his limbs.
Captain,' said I, you must'nt die
thus ;' and raising him in my arms, I
managed to place him on his feet. He
leaned on me and tried to ivalk ; but in
vain; he fell once more dragging me
with him.
`John,' said he, 'tis all over here.
Just leave and join your column as quick
ly as you can. One word before you
go; At Voreppe, near Grenoble, lives a
good woman, eighty-five years old, my
—my mother. Go to see her, embrace
her and tell her that—that—tell her
whatever you like, but give her this
purse and my cross. That's all:'
Is that all, captain'!'
I said so. C cod bye and make haste.'
Boys, I don't know how it was, but
I felt two tears freezing on any cheeks.
No, captain,' cried won't leave
you ; either you Phall come ivith me de
I will stay with you.
forbid your staying.'
Captain, you might just as well for
bid a woman talking.'
If I escape I'll punish you severely.
" You may place me under arrest
then, but just now you must let me do
as I please.'
You are an in"olent fellow.'
Very likely, captain; but you must
come with me.
He bit his lips with anger, but said
no more. I raised hint and placed his
body across my shoulders like a sack.
You may easily imagine that while bear
ing such a burden 1 could not move as
quickly as my comrades. Indeed, 1
soon lost sight of their columns, and
could see nothing but the white silent
plains around me. I moved 'on, and
presently there appeared a band of Cos
sacks galloping to*ard me, their lances
in rest, and shouting their fiendish war
cry.
The captain was by this time in a
state df total unconsciousness; and I
resolved ; cost what it might, not to aban
don him. I laid him on the ground, cov
ered him with snow, and then crept un
der a heap of my dead comrades; leair
ing however my eyes at liberty. Soon
the Cossacks reached us, and began stri
king with their lances right and left,
while the horses trampled their bodies.
Presently one of these rude beasts pla
ced his foot on my left arm and crush
ed it in pieces. Boys, I did not say a
' word ; 1 did not move, save to thrust my
right hand into my mouth to keep down
the cry of torture ; and in a few min
utes the Cossacks dispersed.
" When the last of them had ridden
on, I crept out and managed to disinter
the captain. He showed few signs of
life; nevertheless I contrived with my
one hand to drag him towards a rock,
which afforded a sort of shelter, and
then lay down next to him, wrapping
my capote around us. Night was clo
sing in, and the snow continued to fall.
The last of the rear guard had long dis
nppeared, and the only sound that broke
the silence were the whistling of dist
ant bullets, and the nearer howling of
the wolves, which were devouring the
dead bodies. God knows what things
were passing through my mind that
night, which, I felt assured would be my
last on earth. But I remembered the
prayer my mother had taught me long
ago when I was a child by her side;
I and kneeling down, I said it fervently.
'Boys it did me good; and always re
member that sincere earnest prayer
will do you good too. I felt wonderful
ly calm when I resumed my place next
the captain. But time passed on, and I
was becoming quite numbed, when I
saw a company of French officers ap:
proaching. Before I had time to ad
dress them, the foremost, a low sized
man, dressed in a fur pelisse, stepped
towards me saying—' What are you do
ing here I Why did you stay behind
your regiment l' •
For two good reasons,' said I point
ing first to the captain, and then to my'
bleeding arm. •
The man speaks the truth, sire,' said
one of his followers, "I saw him march
ing behind the column, carrying this
officer on his back.'
The Emperor—for, boys it was be
gave nie one of those looks which only
himself or an Alpine eagle could give,
and said'
''Tie well. You have done very well.'
'Then opening his pelisse, he took
the cross which decorated his inside
green coat and gave it to me. That mo
mrnt 1 was no longer cold or hungary,:and
felt no more pain in my arm than if that
ill natured beast had never touched it.'
Pavoust,' added the, Emperor, ad
dressing the gentleman who had spoken
cause this man and his captain to be
placed on one of the ammunition wag
gons. Adieu!'
And waving his hand towards me,
he passed on.'
Here the vetran paused and resumed
his pipe:
But tell us about the cross, and what
became of Capt. Positive,' cried several
importunate voices.
The Captain still lives, and is nem a
retired General. But the best of it was
that ns soon as he recovered, he placed
me under arrest for fifteen days, as a
punishment for my breach of discipline
The circumstances readied Napoleon's
ears ; and after laughing heartily, he
not only released me but promoted me
to be a sergeant. As to the decoration
here is the ribbon, boys ; I wear that in
my button hole, but the creed I carry
next my heart
And unbuttoning his coat, the veteran
showed his young friends the precious
relic, enveloped to a little satin bag sus
pended around his neck.
CAPTuite or RUN AWAY NEGROES IN
HAMPSHIRE, VA.—On the 16th inst. six
runaway slaves were overhauled by it
party of white men in the neighborhood
of North River Mills, Hampshire, Va.
The negroes made a desperate resis
tance, being aimed with corn-slashers,
and would not yield till the whites had
fired on them. The shots discharged
took effect on two of them, wounding
one slightly, and the other so severely
that it is feared he will not recover.—
The slaves were fruit Fredrick county,
and belonged to different individuals.
BRANDY is a letieler, a headacher, a
consumer of substance, a destroyer or
health and reputation, an instigator of
riot and bloodshed, a breaker up of do-
mestic peace, and a fruitful source of
mysery and crime. Let's put brandy
down.—City Item.
°
McCracken's Experience.
"Tell us about the fight, JO."
Why you see boys, it was one of
the tightest plaees I ever was in—Jack,
Ore us tt light, will you 1 I never seed
perzactly as many men around one poor
fellow afore, an' I would'nt cared much
then, of it had bin in a place whar I
knowed the ropes j but I never had seen
Louisville ; but some how I thought Of
I uas got into a fight,l'd show some df
'em chaps that McCracken could put in
some right tall licks. So, I takes oIT
my home spun, rolls up my sleeves;
when all at once suthin struck me."
Who was it 1".
Why I'd noticed a tall feller on the
outside of the crowd pick up a rock,
but it wos'nt him, for he threw it down
again; another feller, a Major some
thing, he'd a 'tarnal big hickory stick
in his fist and—"
" Was it the Major'!"
"No, I don't believe it was, as he
walked away before the skirmago com
menced ; and I did'nt see him any more;
beside, he did'nt look like a man what
would maltreat a stranger ; but, as I
was saying sathin struck me." _
Wher;abouts did it hit you, Jo
"On the head. As I was saying, I
had just got peeled, and sort a singled
out a pop-eyed lookin feller just afore
me, and was thinkin to myself, your, my
mut, sure, when suthm struck me:"
Did it knock you down ?"
" Hold on fellers don't be in such a
squmption--no, it did'nt knock me down
—but---"
" Sort o' staggered you 1"
" No—can't say it did much ; but, as
I was sayin, the popeyed feller looked
as ef he thought he was about to catch
the °dullest cowhallopin he'd ever seed
in his born days; and I jest doubled up
these pertater grabbers, calculatin to
plant one of 'em on the tip ef his nose,
and knock both his eyes back inter their
nateral position, when, as I said before,
suthin struck me."
I , Was it the pop-eyed feller 1"
"No, sir-ee ! I knowed from his build
I was a quicker motioned man 'an he
was ; and had ust sort 'o sot my upper
lip stiff; and drnwed a long breth when
suthin struck me."
" Well, what thas
" Why, an idea?. that I'd better be ma
kin tracks from them diggins fast ; and
boys, of you'd only been about thar that
morning, you'd a seed old McCracken a
mak in' the fastest time for two miles and
a,leetle better, as et'er was
.made in Jet . ;
ferson I
AN EASY RULE FOR FARMERS.—The
"quarter of wheat" is one 'fourth of
ton, (2,240 pounds,) or 560 pounds.—
The standard bushel of wheat is not the
"%a inchester" bushel, but one eighth
of 560, or 70 pounds. Now in our corn=
try the bushel of wheat is 60 pounds :
therefore, divided 560 by 90, and the
result, or nine and one-third buShels,
will be the equivalent, according to our
standard, for the English "quarter of
wheat." But, to make this available to
the farther, let him "divide" the prices
per "quarter" in sterling shillings by
nine, (instead of eight,) and multiply
the quotient by twentyfonr, for the pri
ces per bushel (American) in cents.—
Thus, at 54 shillings per quarter, 54 di
vided by 9 being 6, which multiplied by
24, gives $1,44 per bushel.
Art extatic lover down east thus tsp.;
peals to his tender=hearted duiceita for a
parting• smack :
Terribly tragical and sublimely te;
tributive will be the course pursued by
me, if you do not instantaneously place
thine alabaster lips to mine and enrap
ture my immortal soul by imprinting
one angelic sensation of divine bliss
upOn those indispensabre members Of
the human physiognomy, and then kin
dly Condescend to allow me to take my
departure from the everlasting sublimity
of thy thrice glorious presence !'
Nancy fainted !
How TO GET Rico,—A man who is
very rich now, was very poor when he
was a boy. When asked how he got
his riches he replied :
'My lather taught me never to play
till my work was finished, and never to
spend money till I had earned it. If
had but one half hour's work to do in a
day, 1 must do that the first thing, and
in half en hoar, and after I Was allowed
to plity ; and 1 could then play with
much more pleasure, than if 1 had the
thought of an unfinished task before my
mind. 1 early formed the habit of do
ing every thing in its time, and it soon
became perfectly easy to do so. It is
to this habit I owe my prosperity.'
A biography of Robewpierre, which
appeared in an Irish pnper, concladed is
the following manner :—iThis ei:raor
dinnry man left no clildren behind him
except his brother, who was killed at the
same time.'
,~
~b
VOL, XIV, NO, 89
" Go it ilob-tails),
A. specimen of the genus 'Hosier' was
found by Capt. , of the steamer
, in the engine room of his boat,
while lying at bouisirille, one fine morn
ing in June. The captoin inquired to
know " bat he was doing there V'
" Have you seen Capt. Perry 1" was
the interrogative response.
"I don't know him and I can't tell
what thdt haS to do With your being in
My engine-room; replied the Captain
angrily:
" Hold on,Ll'hat's just what I Was
getting dt•—•-Ytiti see, Captain Perry and
I walked down town together. Capt.
Perry asked me to drink, and so-1 did.
I knew that 1 wanted to drink, or I
would'nt have been so dry. So, Capt.
Perry and I drank. Capt. Perry and I
went to a ball: Capt. Perry was .pirt4
ting in some extras on one toe. . 1 singi
out, "Go it Capt. Perry, if you, bust
your biter !" With that a man steps up
to me, and says he,
"See here, stringer, you must ,eave.
Says I what miistfleave for I"
"Says he, "Your making too much
(` Sava I, t , I've been in bigger erotirds
than this, and made more noise, and
did'nt leave nether:''
‘. With that, he tuck me by the nap
of the neck and the sent of the breech.;
es, and—i left ! As I was sha yin' down
street, I looked around and I see a sus
picious lookin chap a streakin it mut'
me, and so I dodged into a gentleman's
houre. 1 knew he was a gentleman by
a remark he made."
"I'd bin in his house but a short
time, when I heard a knockin on the
do6r. t.knew the chap wanted to get in
whoever he was, or he would'nt hatre
kept up such an alfired racket. By and
by, said a voice:
"11, you don't open bust in the
door!„
And so he did l"
"I put on a face and says
" Stranger, your room here .is better
than your company !"
" With that he cum at me with a pis
tol in one hand, and a bowie knife in the
other; and being a little pressed for time
I jumped through the windy, a leavin
the bigger piirtion of my coat tail. As
I was a streakin it down town, with the
fragments flutterin in the breeze,l pass
ed a friend. I know he was a friend, by
a remark he made. Says he,
" Ge IT I 808-TAIL i-HE'S A GAININ' ON
1/1:111 1,1
"And that's the way I happened id
your engine room. I'm a good swim
mer, Captain, but do excuse me if you
please from TAKIN WATER.
The First Saw MU.
The old practice in making boards
was to split up the log with wedges;
and inconvenient as the praetice was, it
was no easy matter to persuade the world
that the thing could be done in any bet
ter way. Saiv.mills were first used in
Europe in the fifteenth century ; as late
ly as 1555, an English, embassador, hay:
ing seen a sawmill in France, tholight it
a novelty which deserved a particular ,
description; It if: amusing to see hci*
the aversion to labor saving Machinery
has already agitated England. lhe
first saw-mill was established by a
Dutchman, iii 1663 ; but the public out=
cry against the new4angled machine,
was so violent, that the prtiprietor was
forcer) to decamp with more expedition
than etCr did a Dutchman before. The
evil was thus kept out of England for
several years, or rather genetations ;
but in 1768, an unlucky timber mar ,
Chant; hoping that after so long a time
the public would be less watchful of its
own interest; made a rash attempt tti
construct another mill. The guardians
of the public Welfare were On the alert,
and a conscientious mob collected and
pulled the mill to pieces. Such patriotic
spirits could not always last; and now
though we have nowhere seen the fact
distinctly stated, there is reason to be
iieire that saw-mills are used in Eng
land.
Love tot the Dead.
The love that survives the tomb, says
Irving is the noblest attribute of the
soul.—lt has woes i it has likewise its ,
delights ; and when the overwhelming
burst of grief is called into the gentle
teat of recolection then the sudden an
guish and cOnfulsive agony over the
present ruins of all we most loved are
softened away into pensive meditations
of all that it was in the days of its luv-
Whd would rost such sorrow
from the heart ; though It may some
times throw a passing cloud over the
bright hours of gaily, or spread a dsep , .
er sadness. over the hours of gloom, yet
who Would exchange it for the_vong of
Leasure or the burst of rebelry I No!.
there is a voice from the tomb, sweeter
than song; there is a remembrance of
the dead, to which we turn even from,
the charm of the living,
s